With My Best Regards, Dearest Friend
by pirate-pet
Summary: For the young William Blakeney, death seemed a hard thing to cope with... especially that of his best friend, Peter Calamy.


With My Best Regards, Dearest Friend- (And I'll be seeing you on the other side.)

It rained that night. The night following your death, that is. It seemed so fitting, too, that even the Heavens should mourn your parting. After all, the world had just lost a very brave, very great man. I say this because that's what you were, to me at least- not just some plucky boy, not just a young midshipman with great dreams, with aspirations to become a captain someday…_. _No, you were the best friend I had ever had, and you were a courageous man in a time of such great peril, amidst a war that seemed so daunting that the very earth shook under it. And you know, to me you always were a Lieutenant.

Lieutenant Peter Calamy.

* * * * *

Last night was the worst I ever weathered. After all, I could not possibly get any sleep knowing that you were out there somewhere… in the deep, cold depths of the sea. I shuddered at the very picture my mind created of you- dead, blue lips… eyes forever shut to the world…_._

My own eyes shot open and I found myself staring up into the black, empty space that surrounded me. It seemed even emptier now, though… your hammock no longer swung languorously next to mine- I would no longer hear the sound of your comforting breathing any time I awoke in the middle of the night.

I tried to comprehend all of this as I reluctantly shut my eyes again. The only sounds that came to me were that of the droning rain as it beat relentlessly against deck of the _Surprise_. I let out the breath I did not know I had been holding, and attempted to turn in my hammock. I felt restless. My whole body shook with either nerves, or cold, but quite possibly both. I remembered when I used to be able to call out your name at times like these. More often than not, you would answer, "Will, go back to sleep." But I took it all to be in good nature.

… It would never be like that anymore.

My teeth were now chattering together furiously as I brought my knees up to my chest and lay quivering under my meager blankets. It had never been this cold when you were here…_._

Above deck, towering taller than the mainmasts, the Heavens continued to unleash their fury upon the thrashing ocean. The inky black waves lurched, and clashed, and vomited into the tumulus ocean below the ship. Rainwater was falling like a mighty curtain over everything within its province, cleansing all that it enveloped in its watery sheen. I had hoped that despite the current state of the ocean that night, and with all that was being conducted in a cacophony thunder, and lightning, and wind, and rain above the surface, that you had found a safe place below the depths to rest.

In fact, I prayed that night- when all else failed me, and I could find no other rest within my soul, I beseeched the God I grown up with in early morning church services when I was young. I made sure to tell Him of all the good things you had done, and how bravely you had fought for England- I told Him how you didn't deserve to go to a place like Hell. I told Him you were my best friend.

I think He listened to me after that- I said "Amen", just to be sure. Still, I could not help the chilly feeling of grief that I felt was clinging inside my chest.

* * * * *

I do not know exactly what happened to me over those next few weeks… it seemed every day I grew more and more sullen at my loss- your death. At first, the other middies would offer me sympathy- because you have no idea how much you meant to every single one of us- but the more and more they sympathized, the angrier I felt myself become. Until…

I smacked Williamson the other day. He had noticed me sulking about the deck of the _Surprise_, carrying my feet in manner most listless, when he came up to me and said the thing the snapped upon my very last nerve. "What would Peter think?" My eyes had shot up to meet his, pale blue and burning with the cold flame of indignity. And then my hand flew on its own accord.

Captain chastened me soundly afterwards- I sat there so embarrassed I barely caught a word of his lecture, instead staring at his cabin floor, my one and only hand fisted in my waistcoat, ears so hot they were practically glowing. He said something about "overreacting" and "how lucky I was to be yet a boy"… he never mentioned Peter, though. I am grateful though… because you're not the cause of my anger, Peter… I don't know what exactly is, but it's not you. It could never be you.

Williamson and the other boys avoided me after that, however. I was never again lent a sympathetic ear from the lot of them- _Not that I needed one_, I would constantly and huffily remind myself.

But the days had grown longer still, Peter, and I began to long for some sort of friendship. My pride was too bruised ever to approach the other boys again… so I turned to anyone else in the crew…_._ On one particular night, I found myself sitting up in the Doctor's little area, tucked away behind the sick berth of the ship. He was prodding at something too mutilated to identify, working by candlelight as he always did, and I was curled up in a rickety wooden chair. You remember, the one missing the two slabs in the back? You broke it by accident the day I had my arm amputated… but I was glad enough to laugh through the pain.

I thought about that as I sat, hugging my knees unto myself. "No one talks to me anymore." I muttered thickly into the blue cloth of my arm. My eyes flicked up quickly to see if you had noticed.

"Hmm." I felt my face redden slightly as I was rapidly on the way to becoming angry once again.

"I want to talk to the other middies again, but I don't think they take too kind to me anymore." I leaned the side of my head into the crook of my arm and waited for him to reply. He sighed, and reached blindly for a long, skinny tool of no particular importance. "I don't understand why they still avoid me." At this he turned ever so slightly, as to catch me in his range of sight- I'll always remember the way those little spectacles of his looked when they glowed in the heat of the flickering candle.

"Well I can very well imagine why." He began in the soft, yet low tone he always used when correcting anyone. "They were very gracious, and even too much so in my opinion, toward your behaviour regarding Lieutenant Calamy's death, and in turn you repaid their kindness with hostility-" he turned back to his lifeless victim, "-believe me when I say it will take quite a bit action on your part to gain back their friendship."

I opened my mouth to say something, but shut it. No matter how much I hated to agree, the Doctor was always right when it came to such things- it was a hard pill for me to swallow, my own acknowledgement of my immature actions, but I assumed I must do so anyways.

Slowly, I untangled my arm from around my legs and then dropped my head with a breathless sigh. It remained quiet for some time in the Doctor's little cranny- only the occasional scritch of pen against paper could be heard as he jotted something within his journal, then proceeded back to his prodding. It seemed minutes before I finally stood and walked uncertainly towards the man's desk. The light from the waxing candle he had lit illuminated everything across his messy workspace. Notes scribbled across torn sheets seemed to be scattered everywhere about the desk, some even dribbled with dried- and fresh- blood, though he did not seem to mind. I also had a fine view of what poor soul he was tearing apart this time- it was a bird, of course, the creature he remained so fond and yet so cruel to. Its feathers had, for the most part, been plucked from its flesh and now only tiny red dimples coated the creature's pink skin. My eyes followed a small trail of blood to a growing pile of gore-covered bones gathering atop a stack of books.

It was times like these when I felt a twinge of doubt at the Doctor's competence, and began to thank my lucky stars for my uninfected, albeit displaced, right arm. Then, glancing over towards his journal and not bothering to decode the man's handwriting (for he truly has a Doctor's handwriting), I let my eyes fall to his stoic, intently focused face.

"I wish Peter… I wish he was still alive." I felt my eyes fall back down to my hand as I traced slow circles over the edge of the desk, my eyes slowly becoming unfocused as I fell into another reflective state.

"Yes, me too." Your voice was barely a breath as you pulled another bone from the bird's gory innards and inspected it. I felt a slight, unpleasant flip in my stomach.

I have always tried to avoid the subject of the day I had had my arm forever removed from the rest of my body. It is a painful memory, to say the least, and no matter how brave anyone said I was, or no matter how highly the Doctor praised me as "The World's Bravest Little Patient", my arm was still gone, and that had, and would forever frustrate me. The sight of those bones, smeared in hot, noxious-smelling blood only rekindled those memories… but now, it seemed I had more to hate than the pain.

_Peter, you're a part of every single one of my memories, aren't you? _

_You had visited me the past two nights prior to my surgery. It was a terribly frightening time for me… I could not recall a moment when I did not feel the anxiety of the Doctor's prognosis overtake me. He told me I was to lose my arm, but I began to fear terribly for my life. I remember asking you… about when I was sure I'd be stitched up in my hammock, the last stitch through my nose. I didn't know then that it'd be you to go before I. _

_But I cannot express to you how greatly your presence relieved me._

_You entered on the day I had been anxiously avoiding. As soon as I saw the Doctor, solemn-faced and sharp eyed, carrying an array of items hidden from view, I felt my heart speed to a pace where it felt about ready to leap from my chest. He was followed in just as somberly by Mr. Higgins, and Killick… but you were there also, and you tried your very best to smile weakly on at me from over the Doctor's shoulder. I remember trembling so badly I could hardly control myself; I hoped you didn't notice, and think of me as a little weakling, but perhaps you did, and that is why you steadied your hands so firmly on my shoulders. _

_ The Doctor had already begun to display a wide variety of surgical instruments by the time I had grown accustomed to the firm pressure you supplied on my shoulders: there were surgical saws, scalpels, bone-cutting tools, clothes, tar, and so on and so forth. I don't know what your reaction to my fright was… but I always liked to think you were there right along side me._

_ He had slipped you a piece of leather with a simple command to place it in my mouth as he picked up an extremely foreboding-looking instrument of round design, with a silver turning key and a screw driven through it. I whined internally as he fixed the object mere inches above my previous injury, and you gently pushed the leather scrap past my chattering teeth and into my mouth. By now, my body was practically convulsing with tremors, and it felt as if all the blood in my veins had run cold._

_ The Doctor allowed a fleeting glance toward my pinched face before beginning to tighten the clothe material, which I later learned to be called a tourniquet. It was then that the real test of my bravery began._

_ I found it hard to explain later… when all the other middies asked, what exactly surgery felt like. In my opinion, it was a silly question- what berk wanted to know what surgery felt like? But I told them anyways: I could best just describe the tremendous pressure that built in my arm as the Doctor slowly fastened the clothe circlet around my wounded appendage. He would pull the object tighter, constricting the blood flow from the rest of my arm to a point where it felt as if my bone would very well crack- I remember feeling then a coldness that seemed to fall upon my arm, and thick numbness in my fingertips. At no point in time at surgery could I bring myself to look on. With all my strength, I kept myself from moving about- this effort doubled by Peter's vice grip against my shoulders- and squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I possibly could._

_ As the Doctor had stopped to exchange his weapons, I managed a glance up at Peter. He looked down on me momentarily, a certain amount of comfort being held within his dark eyes, before the Doctor placed his slender, duly sharp saw to my skin and proceeded on with the irremediable. I tried my hardest not to scream at that point- I couldn't possibly in front of Peter and the Doctor. But nor could I look on. I think Peter glanced away then, too._

_ The amount of hours I spent in the sick berth after that was unbelievable. Every waking hour was spent listless unless the Doctor had lent me a book of some sort to practice with, and even then, no words could compare to the amount of joy I felt at being outside in the sun. However, your daily visits did bring me a certain piece of that joy. Whenever you could make your way unhindered past the Doctor's warning gaze, you would always step up smiling towards my hammock where I had been bedridden. The first day you had asked me how I felt- and in all honesty, I felt an entirety better when you were around- but I told you I was fine. You smiled then, and I think that was relief that I saw glowing in your eyes as you did. You told me, "You were absolutely and positively brave last night, Will." I had smiled sheepishly, nodding off the comment- but I believed you. And I almost told you the reason why I wanted to be so brave, but whenever I found the words, you were always hurrying back off. You never stayed long, and I understood why._

_ But, I was brave for you, Peter._

Several more instances like this occurred, where I felt like it was you who pulled me through. I never tried to lean on you, but at times I couldn't seem to help it. You were always supportive of me, and I believe that at times I selfishly took advantage of you… but I waited for the time to pay you back. I knew that at some point, no matter how much I dreaded it, you'd be faced with a situation that you couldn't face alone- and then I'd be there.

That time seemed to come all too soon.

_For weeks we had been chased by our target, the French sloop Acheron. They'd pursued us steadily now for days, however, and on one particular night when the fog was at its thickest, began their attack. Not to say it took us by surprise, but we had no plan of counterattack on the vessel. We were in a tight position, and it seemed the only way to elude the Acheron was to slip away from it in the fog. That was when the Captain launched his plan._

_ We were to set a mast afloat behind the Surprise, with four unlit lanterns hanging from each end of the yard, the middle of the yard, and the top of the mast to mock the actual lanthorns, which hung from the stern of the ship. After the ship was out far enough, the mock lights could be lit, and our own dowsed out. The French ship would then continue to fire blindly into the night at our decoy, leaving us ample time to move ahead of them. Only one crucial part played in our Captain's ingenious plan: a living soul must be there in the line of the cannon fire to light the lamps._

_ I was struggling to see all the goings-on from the back of the gathered crew, when Peter was pulled from the crowd, ultimately already chosen for the assignment. I felt my heart skip a beat._

_ Everyone was on edge it seemed. I had pushed my way to the railing of the ship, watching desperately as the makeshift decoy drifted farther and farther out into the ocean behind the wake of the Surprise. Four men were stationed and ready at the lamps, waiting for Peter to uncover his own. The men around me remained solemnly quiet as they watched our brave midshipman… I tried to remember my promise, to be brave for Peter. I found myself only able to stand and look on in terror._

_ The French ship never ceased in its fire. Each time a shot came close to splintering the mast I felt my whole being flinch… it came too close for me three times, as I counted I my hand. Peter had climbed up to stand atop the yard, balancing with one arm against the mast, the other outstretched with the match. Slowly… slowly, the first light blinked on through the fog, and our own was ghosted out. I held my breath… waiting was almost too much to bear… but I tried to remain stalwart. Even more time passed, and several other shots whispered past the midshipman to break the water's surface far off in the distance. Then came the second light. The third. And finally the fourth, all wavered on through the night._

_ The Surprise was now totally under cover, and making her way into the fog east of the Acheron. I was jostled into a forming crowd of crewmen as they all moved at once to the stern to search the sloe-black waters for their crewmate. It was taking too long… I had squirmed up the side of the rail to stare full view into the pitch-colored ocean below. I strained my eyes through the dark, and listened for anything through the frequent crash of cannonballs disappearing into the deep._

_ He was spotted swimming up toward the sloop, ultimately soaked but still very much alive. I have never known such relief as this- it washed up over me and throughout me, and removed any and all anxiety I had previously felt. Oh. Anxiety… I had tried to be brave for you, alas…_._ You were hauled up onto the deck with much fervor. I turned and looked to you- the crowd had already moved from around me and dispersed back to their stations without a word… the Captain clapped you on the shoulder and someone threw a towel over your dripping form. At the moment, the only thing I wanted to do was hug you…. _

_ You caught my gaze for a moment and snapped me from my reverie. I saw your smile in the light of the lantern, still warm despite your face being beaded with drops of cold seawater. I felt myself smile back weakly. Your gaze was drawn away, however, as the Captain commented to you, and the Doctor was at your side, checking for any possible damage. We celebrated that night… not too soon now, we would take the Acheron._

* * * * *

_ It must have been the sixth bell when I woke up that night. I had sighed and turned over in my hammock… there was no light in the cabin, but I could hear the creak of the makeshift cots as they swung from the deck head, and the light, steady rhythm of your breathing. I bit my lip nervously as I contemplated waking you- I had not gotten the opportunity to speak with you after your act of heroism earlier, due to your being stalled below deck. I had retired to bed early, not having a watch- I expected you didn't notice me leave._

_ You had stepped in later that night. Quietly, ever so quietly as not to disturb your roommate… I was only feigning sleep. You had hastily removed your uniform, discarding all status for the night as you tucked your belongings away in your chest. I had watched silently from my hammock the entire time, waiting for you to turn around and discover I was not really asleep. You donned your white nightshirt and moved back around toward your cot, stopping briefly before my stilled form. "'Night, Will." I heard you whisper lightly before slipping into your hammock. I had closed my eyes._

_ And now you were fast asleep, the glow of pride which you had so rightly merited unto yourself still hung to you, bringing a smile to your lips even as you slept. It would be foolhardy to wake you now… but then again, no one had ever told me I was the brightest boy in the world._

_ I called your name, quietly at first, and biting my lip right after I did so. Then I called again, louder, yet still with the hiss of a whisper, "Peter…!" I saw your chest rise unevenly, and you grunted lowly before turning your head to look at me through the dark._

_ "'s that you, Will?" You yawned, and I hated to have woken you. "What is it?" I stared blindly into the shadows that swallowed you from my view; my mind slowly processed the words._

_ "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, Peter…." I lied. "I… I just wanted to tell you that that was the bravest thing I have ever seen anyone do in my life. I wanted to congratulate you…." And then it was quiet in our little cabin for longest of time. I had nervously held my breath, mentally kicking myself- your face most likely bore the most disgruntled of expressions, I thought embarrassedly._

_ It seemed then that there was a slight creaking of ropes stretching, and boards groaning, and then the thick thump of bare feet against the wooden floor. I startled, sitting up on my good arm. "Peter?" Then I could hear your breath whispering very close to me, and your hand reached from the shadows to rest against my shoulder. By now, the feeling of embarrassment had spread in an upward flush into my cheeks, and burned uncomfortably in my ears. _

_ You chuckled groggily, your other hand fixing against the ropes that held my cot to the wall. "Thank you, Will." I could hear you whisper. "That means… a lot to me."_

_ I immediately snapped from my state of frozen nerves. "I meant it, too!" I found myself blurting before my lips could even properly form the words. "I meant… you know, that… you're the bravest person I know to put your life on the line like that…. The bravest thing I've ever done is eaten Killick's grub he cooks for us…." I smiled childishly, my cheeks again tingeing with pink, until I felt your hand tighten on my shoulder._

_ "That's not true, Will." Your voice was quick, low, and left no room for me to possibly argue. "You're braver than you give yourself credit for."_

_ "But I've never gone into the line of fire like you-" I countered, though my attempt was futile._

_ "Will, being brave isn't just throwing yourself in front of a French ship. It's not even being in Navy, for love's sake- bravery is… bravery is overcoming your fear. Bravery is doing what you couldn't do before, without fear, without looking back," he paused, and I felt a lump beginning in my throat, "not necessarily running off to war." I stared, then, for what seemed ages at the shadowy form before me._

_ He sighed lightly, with a tone and speech that made him sound far older than his years… and myself far younger. "Do you understand, Will? It's you overcoming your fears, one-by-one." He poked my chest evenly to punctuate each word._

_ Oh, how badly I wanted to agree…. I felt a certain sting in my eyes- one that made me squint, caused my eyes to water, and resulted in a few trickles of tears down my nose toward my chin. "I… I'm so scared though. At times, I'm not very brave at all. No matter how hard I try-!" He clapped a quick hand over my mouth as heavy footfalls were heard at the door._

_ "Will…" he whispered hoarsely, his voice was once again low, "… you'll never be brave enough if you keep calling yourself a coward. Now listen, coward's aren't brave because they never do anything about their fear- and you're not a coward, Will. But just because someone's brave doesn't mean they don't get afraid every now and again- it's just that that separates them from the cowards: the brave ones do something about their fear, they don't wallow in it. Will, you've always overcome your fear in the end…." I felt a thumb brush over my cheeks, picking up the stray tears, which lay at rest atop them. "Don't give up now." At this, your arms reached out to embrace me where I sat. Startled, I slowly responded to your action, my one arm moving about to wrap around your neck. I bit my lip- I would not be a coward. _

_ You had relinquished in your embrace too soon for me, as I would have preferred to hold you there all night. For while you had done your best to reassure me- and because of your words I did feel a great deal braver- I was not strong. I was weak, Peter, and you were my strength._

_ How would I possibly have the strength to be brave without you?_

* * * * *

_But_ _Dear God…_

_ … why did he have to leave now?_

_ To me, the whole world seemed to be watching. I sat numbly on my knees beside your eternally stilled form, within my left hand the steal needle with which to stitch you up in your coffin where you would forever be preserved. My hand shook terribly as I fumbled with the stitching, hardly making any progress. My entire mind seemed to be in a fuzzy sort of state, hindering all of my actions. Vision blurred, tongue numbed, hand jittering, I stared disbelievingly into your stilled face. Why… why Peter…?_

_ Barely noticing the looks I was receiving, and even less inclined to care, I turned weakly toward the man beside me. "… I need some help…." I felt the words fall in a mumble from my lips, and my jaw remain slack afterwards. I stitched you up to your nose and stopped- I knew you had entered an eternal kind of sleep._

_ The flag flew half-mast high that one day… but to me, it forever would._

* * * * *

I still dine in the galley with the rest of the crew. I still receive my portion of grog. I still miss you. Everything has been the same this past month- I have gone through my monotonous activities with the little amount of life I feel left within me. I don't feel brave at all now that you're gone, Peter. Right now, I just feel small…_._

Killick served us a thick soup tonight- the kind he never let on the ingredients of… you know, _that _one. I sat quietly, as far away from the main action as I could get, stirring my wooden spoon listlessly through the thick porridge. I don't think you'd be too proud of me now… maybe I'm immature, but maybe I just miss you too much…_. _I sighed and hung my head, blonde curls falling over my eyebrows as I did so. Was I a coward now, Peter? Was I failing to confront my fear of losing you? I… I supposed it didn't matter now.

Towards the center of the galley, they had kicked up in song again, like they often did when they were feeling down. I had expected to here another round of "Spanish Lady", or perhaps, as we were nearing closer to England, "Grey Funnel Line". However, as they once again rose up in song, it was not near the subject I had expected. They sang:

_Long we've tossed on the rolling main  
Now we're safe ashore, Jack  
Don't forget your old shipmate  
Fal dee ral dee ral dee rye eye doe!_

_But the best of friends must part  
Fair or foul the weather  
Hand yer flipper for a shake  
Now a drink together_

The song selection couldn't have been any a closer stab to my heart. _As if to mock my pain_, I thought bitterly. However… it was at that very same instance that I noticed something curious. It was not so curious in the selection of the song, nor within the company singing, but more within myself. I had noticed that, as it had been after Nagle's death, the shanty man proved to be Bonden. And the curious thing that came to my mind was that Nagle, too, had lost a very close friend aboard the ship. That I was not the only one… Peter was not the _only one. _I had come to realize within that fateful moment of time, that you were not the only man to be lost aboard the _Surprise_, and not the only friend. Everyone on the ship had been affected by death in one way or another… I found myself growing more and more confused.

What _would _you think, Peter?

I lay awake in my hammock that night. I was thinking soundly upon the subject, all the while wishing myself sleep. I had always felt I needed you… I wanted you… as both a friend and a person I could model myself after. I wanted to be like you, Peter. But what would you have to say about my actions regarding your death? I assumed, since you had always been quite sensible, that you would not allow yourself to wallow in grief as I was doing now.

It was so hard, though..._._ I could not simply accept the fact that you were gone, but I had to come to the realization that there was no turning back- no amount of tears could bring you back from where you were now, Peter. I doubted God even could…_._ But I could no longer allow you to rule my mind, no matter how much of my heart still belonged to you.

Peter… you would forever be in the most sacred of places within my heart, but your memories I would stow away only for the nights when I felt the loneliest. I believe you would have been proud at my decision. I could move on…_._

… But it did not mean I would ever forget you.

* * * * *

I dreamt that night… about the first time you ever smiled at me. I had just begun my career under the Good Captain Aubrey as a simple midshipman, and the youngest, at that. "Little Lord Blakeney" was the name the crew seemed to adopt for me. The first time I saw you was as I was hastily introduced to the officers by our Captain. Your rank clarified you as just another middie… but to me you were different. You… you would communicate directly with the Captain, with the Doctor, and with the lieutenants… I was in awe of you. And as any boy of my young age, I ultimately chose you to become my idol..._._

But I wanted you even more as my friend. I watched you always as you went about your work on the ship. You seemed so untouchable to me… my idol. I had always hoped that you would pick me out from the others- see me not a just another midshipman…_._

The third day out of port, you were walking about the deck of the _Surprise_, looking over your charges with the authority of a Captain. It then that you had graced me with your smile- I smiled back earnestly. That night, you sat next to me we ate our supper. You had introduced yourself as "Peter Myles Calamy", but I already knew your name. I quickly pronounced myself "William Blakeney", and the smile once again returned to your face.

"Will, eh? Well, it's nice to meet you, Will." I was ecstatic.

"Nice to meet you, too." We were going to be great friends. I could tell…_. _

* * * * *

I awoke with a flutter of eyelashes. My mind slowly transitioned between sleep and reality as I came to the slow realization of a soft light emitting from within my room. My eyes blinked dazedly as I examined the cabin- it was true enough, that my once dark quarter was being filled with a blue glow from somewhere within the shadows. My eyes searched the room wildly in the stead of my stilled body. Perhaps… I was still asleep…?

I sat up tentatively, first looking to my right, then over to my left. It was then that all precaution I had felt disappeared. My jaw went slack into a small gape, eyes staring disbelievingly toward the apparition before me.

There you were- Peter… right before me…_._ You were standing so tall- your blue jacket was pristine in its condition, as were the rest of your clothes. You wore your hat, and the air I felt about you… reminded me more of a captain than a lieutenant. Your entire being shone with the soft blue glow that flooded my dark cabin. _Oh, Peter…._

The Doctor would later call me to be crazy, but that is because he is a Man of Science… and scientists don't believe in things like ghosts… or feelings so strong as to bind you eternally to another person. But as I looked to you, I knew I was not simply imagining things… because there… there was your smile, the one my brain could not even comprehend. I felt myself wish to reach out to you, to rematerialize you… but I did not.

Somehow, I knew now that you were still with me. That I could now face the days with the courage and strength you had brought me… for though you were not with me on the outside, you were forever a part of me on the inside. And it even seemed that your passing on, no matter how difficult it was for me, was a part of my life and its course toward maturity. You had taught me to be brave… and you had given me strength… but it was then that I realized I did not need you there physically to guide me.

I smiled back toward you- it was a smile filled with such solace, and yet so much understanding. It had taken me weeks, but I had done it. I had overcome my fear of losing you, only to find that you were still with me. And with that, I recalled the last words you had spoken to me, before touching my knuckle to my brow in salute, and calling:

"With my best regards, Dearest Friend, and I'll be seeing you on the other side!"

* * * * *

End


End file.
